[ Stiles says it like it's kinda obvious, as if he's talking about the odds in footie or a shitty housemate. not all werewolves care. like people, Eggsy reminds himself, before the idea of distinct supernatural sensibilities regarding life and death overwhelms him. ]

Right. [ processing and finally. ] There's nothing like that in my London — that I know about, anyway. [ he didn't know about Kingsman until recently, after all. ] But there's some...bonkers stuff, I guess you could say. [ for a moment, he hesitates. ] We had a bit of a doomsday situation right before I woke up here.

[ a "save the world situation," he wants to say. in fact, he wants very badly to repay Stiles' gesture of trust with one of his own. I'm like a spy, he might whisper, only better. However, with a sharp pang, he remembers Harry's words in his study, spoken on their last, good twenty-four hours together. a gentleman's name should only appear in the newspaper three times in his life: when he's born, when he gets married, and when he dies.

vague references to the incident will have to do for now. ]